Patriots & Tyrants (Rebels & Lies Trilogy Book 2)

by Cotton, Brian

  “This is a public lobby…maybe you should go somewhere more private.”

  Sanders stood up and went face to face with Harvey. Harvey could see the anger in his comrade’s eyes, but he didn’t waver. He just stared right back. If it came to blows, then so be it, Harvey had faith in his hand to hand fighting capabilities against the leftover in front of him.

  “I’ve grown tired of your insubordination.” Sanders said.

  Harvey didn’t back down. “I’ve grown tired of your disrespect and bullshit.”

  “Don’t you forget who is in command here.”

  “Maybe I should relieve you of your command.”

  Sanders balled his fists. “Go ahead and try.”

  Clarke stood and put his hands on both of the men’s chests. “Come on, guys, we don’t need this. Sam and I will go elsewhere.”

  “Fine by me,” Sanders replied, eyes still square on Harvey. “Our final meeting is tomorrow morning, nine sharp. Do try to get some sleep.”

  “Fine. You just worry about the outside tomorrow night. My men and I will take care of raising the flag.”

  “Make sure you do. If you don’t, and you’re not dead, I’ll kill you myself.”

  .59

  Sanders stood at the podium with all of the soldiers under his command staring back at him. There was an overwhelming amount of energy that he could feel inside. The feelings became too intense to hold in. They were all in the lobby, the only room big enough to house them all in. It was still cramped, each man was touching arms with his fellow soldiers on both sides, but it made due. When he decided it was ready to start the briefing, he gave several pounds on the podium with a balled fist. The loud bangs echoed through the microphone in front of him and he got his men’s full attention.

  “I can’t tell you how deeply moved and excited I am to see you all here today.” Sanders said with a grin. “Tonight, we are going to give the USR a swift kick in the ass.”

  That comment got a rise out of the men. They all lifted their voices in cries as if the mission was already a success. That was good, though, Sanders thought as he moved his hands up and down to get control back over the room. It was better to have a group a touch too confident than the other way around. These men had seen too many battles, battles in which they lost friends and fellow soldiers, and the USR was still seemingly standing tall. They needed something like this, and Sanders knew it.

  “Okay, okay, let’s cool it a little bit. We haven’t won anything…yet.”

  Sanders went on to explain the specifics of the mission. The USR would, if all went according to plan, be caught off guard with the amount of force that would be coming their way. The resistance would move in with their vehicles and surround the building. There was a fair amount of concern within Sanders as not all of the teams had armored vehicles. Some resorted to vans, or other vehicles which wouldn’t stand a chance against an attack versus an enemy armored vehicle, but it would have to do because there wasn’t another option for them.

  They would build a perimeter around the building with rebels all around the circle. The remaining units would converge on the USR building and take on the ground troops who would move out to take on the threat. After that, Harvey and his unit would move into the building and, after gathering as much Intel as possible, would raise Old Glory on top, replacing the USR flag.

  It all seemed too perfect to Sanders as he explained it. However, he knew that it wouldn’t be the case once they got out there. On the battlefield, he knew, anything could happen. As was typical for him, he felt a sense of guilt glaring around the room, looking into the eyes of all those looking up to him. Some of them would not make it through this alive. But, he also knew that their sacrifice would serve the greater good, which moved his guilt level down several notches.

  “Of course,” Sanders continued. “Not all of us will make it out of this alive. So, if you find yourself lying on the ground, knowing you are about to die, just think about your fellow men out there fighting with you. Think about those innocent civilians you are fighting for. And, remember that you can go to your maker, whoever that may be, and tell it that you died with honor. You’re giving freedom a chance to ring once more!”

  There was a loud collective roar from the crowd once again. Sanders threw up his hands again to get control. It took a few moments, but the men quieted down.

  “I commend you all for your courage. There are a lot of cowards in this thing, on both sides, but none of you are. We’ll meet back here at 1800. You’re free to do whatever until then. Please be geared up by then. Dismissed.”

  Kaspar, who was standing in the back of the crowded room by the door, reached for the handle and threw the door open. The rush of cool air from the outside felt good against his arms and face. While he walked outside, and the others moved out all around him, he wondered how Sanders could be so long winded when there was no air to breath inside there. That no longer mattered to him now, as Sanders finally finished.

  The words about courage, bravery, and death hit him hard in the gut. He didn’t know if he had courage, or if he was still just that angry young man who wanted revenge and nothing more. Deep down, he wanted to be courageous, but he didn’t know if that was in him at all. Since he was free to do whatever he wanted, he would do the only thing that came to his mind. It wasn’t like he had anyone to spend what could be his last moments on this earth with, anyway.

  Kaspar moved straight for the shooting range.

  .60

  Sullivan reached down for his flak jacket. With a firm grip he lifted it up off of the bench and tightened it around his waist. During his time as an Agent, he had the best training that credits could buy. He never had to use his combat training, however, as his line of work just called for breaking into people’s homes, using his weapon as necessary, and then questioning his suspects. Being in a real combat situation was something new to him. He tried to remember that training, but it all seemed to fail him now, most likely due to the nerves.

  “You okay, Puerco?” X wondered as he geared up.

  “I’ve never been in combat.” Sullivan admitted, reaching for his ZX-17.

  “It’s okay, I haven’t, either.”

  “I guess it’s a good thing I’ve had training, though, huh?”

  X ducked under the shoulder strap of his assault rifle. “I’ve never had training, and I’m not as nervous as you. It’s easy. Just point your gun at the enemy and fire.”

  “I guess so,” Sullivan replied.

  “Hey,” X said, slapping Sullivan on the shoulder. “That’s easy for me to say. I don’t have any family or anything to lose. Just stay close to us, we got your back.”

  Sullivan half smiled as he thought about Davey. This battle wasn’t about anything to him other than a means to find his son. He had to find a way to get in good with the resistance so they could perhaps help him out. He was also fighting for his son. Davey was in the hands of what was now Sullivan’s enemy. The thought never crossed his mind that he would actually be fighting for the resistance. All that time he spent chasing after them seemed like a waste. He wished now, more than ever, that he had taken up his wife’s demands and got out. Maybe none of this would have happened.

  One of the things about life, though, is that one can’t know the future and one can’t change the past. Sullivan struggled with those thoughts. He also wondered if he was doing the right thing at all in going after his government in this way. If the USR found out he participated in this battle that would only mean bad things for his son. But, since he couldn’t tell the future, he just had to go full steam ahead with this thing. He knew that he couldn’t go on a search for Davey without any help. His old employers sure as hell weren’t going to help him. They were the ones who gave him up in the first place.

  “Why are you in this shit?” Sullivan wondered as he worked on the shoulder strap of his rifle.

  “I don’t know,” X replied. “I just want to make a difference, you know? Make up for all the bad that I’ve
done. All the damage I’ve caused.”

  “Nothing to do with the old red, white, and blue?”

  X pondered for a moment. “I guess so, maybe a little bit, but back in those days, I sure as hell wasn’t a patriot.”

  “I see. I suppose we all have our own reasons.”

  “That’s true. Some of these other guys bleed those colors. Not me. I only bleed crimson.”

  “Understood,” Sullivan replied.

  ***

  Kaspar grabbed the Balaclava from atop the desk and then, after folding it, stuck it in the pockets of his black pants. He zipped up his flak jacket until it was snug around his chest and midsection. The yellow fabric from Mother’s blanket seemed to wither away more and more with each passing battle. He wondered when it would be completely gone as he attached it to the Kevlar.

  The sounds of feet hitting the tile floors outside of the room were swift. Everyone seemed to be anxious for this battle. As he often did, he wondered if this battle would the last to fight. He knew that the USR would not be defeated today. They would merely be given a black eye, at that was the best possible outcome. Kaspar stopped asking himself if it was worth it or not, but he soon realized that it didn’t really matter. As long as the USR was in power, the most they could hope for was a sucker punch, like this one.

  The Kriss was now firmly in his hands. He clutched it tight and held it close to his chest. When he closed his eyes, he saw Krys’s face. The look in her eyes had already started to fade, just a little bit, and she was only taken from him a short while ago. It would only be a matter of time before he would struggle to remember her exactly as she was. She would then just become a figure in his memory. He swore when she died that he would keep her alive inside, somehow, but even Mother was starting fade away in some respects. Mostly from being distracted by his relationship with Krys. The thought of her beauty fading away in his memory scared the hell out of him, but it wasn’t like they had taken a bunch of photos together.

  A tap at the door brought him back to the present. A quick turn revealed that it was Harvey vying for his attention. Kaspar nodded his head at his leader and gave him a salute. The leftover saluted back and gave a wink.

  “You ready for this thing?” Harvey wondered.

  “I guess we’ll see,” Kaspar replied. “What’s up?”

  “I’m going to make Clarke your responsibility in there, okay?”

  “Sure, but why me?”

  “I know you’ll take care of him. He’s green, so you’ll have to have him on your hip at all times. He won’t make it without it.”

  “You can count on me, sir.”

  “Good man.”

  “Sir?” Kaspar asked just as Harvey prepared to walk out.

  “Yeah?” Harvey asked as he turned back around.

  “Do you think he’ll find anything in there? Robert, I mean.”

  “We’ll see. We might not have time.”

  “I just hope he does.”

  “Why’s that?” Harvey asked, confused.

  “I just want to know that this is for something more than just raising a flag.”

  Harvey put his head down then approached Kaspar. Once he got close enough, he placed his hand on Kaspar’s shoulder. “Trust me…just raising that flag is enough.”

  “How so?”

  “To everyone out there, looking for something, anything, to believe in. It will spark the other resistance factions into action. Even if we all die trying…it won’t be for nothing. You get me?”

  “Yeah,” Kaspar replied with a sigh. “I think so.”

  “Good. We’re meeting outside in ten minutes.”

  ***

  Harvey found Buck sitting by himself in one of the barracks. His arms were folded across his chest, his frowned face pointed straight at the floor. Sudden doubts crept inside of the old man as he considered letting the boy go after all. If all he was going to do was mope around, then maybe a little dose of reality would help him out. However, Harvey knew deep down that keeping him away was the absolute right thing to do. He would not waiver.

  “Son?” Harvey said as he inched closer.

  “What?” Buck demanded.

  “I’m sorry that you can’t go out there tonight.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “You have to understand…”

  Buck’s head shot up and his eyes met square with his father’s. “No, you need to understand. I’m grown up. I’m old enough to decide what I can and can’t do.”

  “You’re not. You only think that you are. Trust me, you’ll thank me for this someday.”

  “Father, please…”

  “My decision is final, Buck. I’ll see you later tonight after the battle.”

  “Fine. I hope you make it out alive.”

  His son’s comment hit him like a sucker punch to the heart. He “hoped” his own father made it out alive? Did the fact that he was trying to keep him out of danger really bother him to that point? No matter, the decision was final, and no amount of sulking or hurtful comments would change that.

  “Son…”

  Buck turned at his father’s voice. Once again, Harvey couldn’t get out what he truly wanted to say.

  .61

  Kaspar’s nose started to ache again as the assault vehicle pulled out from the power plant towards the Capitol. As he rubbed on it, he noticed Clarke across from him rubbing his sweat covered hands together in swift motions. Seated next to Clarke was one of the volunteers from another squad. He already had his mask on and he seemed nervous as well. The rebel kept moving his right leg up and down while he gripped the Kriss in hands. The back of the vehicle was filled with such volunteers. The feeling of going to battle with complete strangers didn’t make him feel any better about this mission. He missed the others, especially Krys, who had all passed on.

  He refocused his attention on Clarke. The perspiration from his forehead ran down his face. The wizard took off his glasses and wiped at the sweat with a white handkerchief. On top of the nervous breakdown, Kaspar could tell that the old man was about to hyperventilate.

  “You need a paper bag?” Kaspar wondered out loud, hoping to lighten the man’s spirits.

  “Go to hell.” Clarke replied.

  “Look, I’m no expert in this combat stuff, but you’ve got to relax. You’ll do nobody any good in there if you have a complete meltdown.”

  “This was a horrible idea. I shouldn’t be here.”

  Kaspar could feel the others nervous tension, but since they were strangers, they didn’t say anything. It didn’t really matter to them, anyway, as Harvey made it clear that Clarke would be Kaspar’s sole responsibility. If things got hairy in there, the others would continue on the mission, abandoning the two if need be. Kaspar knew that if they were all comrades that that type of action would not be considered. But, since this would be their first battle together, the other rebels obviously didn’t trust Clarke to get the job done. Kaspar couldn’t blame them. He was having his own nervous breakdown on the inside thinking about being attached to a man who never swatted a fly. The key for Kaspar, though, was that he kept in on the inside.

  “You want us to pull over and let you out? So you can walk back to the base in shame?”

  “The thought crossed my mind.” Clarke said.

  Kaspar shook his head in disgust. “No, you know that you need this. You’ve been waiting for your chance, now you’ve got it.”

  “I know, but…”

  “No buts, Mr. Wizard. You know if you put your head down and walk your ass back home that you’ll regret it forever. Put your big boy pants on. You’ll have me in there watching your back.” Kaspar gave the old man a wink.

  “I guess so…”

  “Good luck to you,” a rebel with a thick Jersey accent said.

  Kaspar turned to him. “Mind your business.”

  “I’m about to go into battle with you. It is my business.”

  Kaspar was about to stand and then realized that it wasn’t worth it. He could f
eel something pulling him back, but he couldn’t tell what it was. The feeling was strong enough to stop him in his tracks. He leaned back and heard the order through his ear piece for everyone to put their masks on.

  They had begun their approach to the Capitol.

  ***

  Sullivan gripped the Balaclava in his hands and pulled it over his face. He peered through the tinted lenses as the others did the same. There was a feeling of sheer disbelief that this was actually happening. The vehicle jolted to a stop. Everything was silent for a moment. X reached over and tapped him on the shoulder before he put his own mask on. Sullivan reached to his side, gripped the ZX-17, and then swung it over to his midsection. The eerie silence remained and everything seemed surreal. The former Agent, who swore to destroy the resistance, was now fighting for them. Once he stepped out of that vehicle, there would be no going back. Just when he thought the moment of silence would last forever, the back doors of the assault vehicle were swung open.

  A deafening blare from the sirens of the building mixed itself with the bursts of gunfire.

  Sullivan was the last out of the vehicle. The others in front of him took out the Agents who tried to converge on the vehicle. Once he was out, he could see one firing away at one of his squad mates. He shouldered his weapon and fired a three round burst, dropping his enemy. It wasn’t so bad which was a thought that struck him as odd. The sound outside was deafening and he could hear cries from men being wounded all around him. In front, to his right, lay a piece of the old White House, and he made a run for it, making sure to keep his head low. Once he made it there, he rested his back against it and wondered what would come next.

  Pieces of the structure which he hid behind started to fly in the air from enemy rounds. Sullivan moved up, fired at another Agent, and took him out. All around the Capitol were the rebel vehicles. Those that were stationed at them fired at the enemies outside of the circle. Sullivan was stuck on the inside. Another rebel moved to his location and, for a moment, the former Agent had to keep himself from shooting at him. He still wasn’t used to them being his allies.